Hold Me If You Can

by Stephanie Rowe

  “I’m not giving up.” Natalie fisted her hand. “I’m just a little out of ideas for how to move forward.” How could she influence a deedub not to kill her if she couldn’t even give Dick Small an erection? Nigel would come back for her, and she would have no defenses when he pointed out her inability to defend herself.

  But if she couldn’t heal men sexually, then what did she have anyway? Without it, her soul would die.

  Ella smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Just do something. Anything.” She grinned and gestured at the store. “You have enough chocolate in here to combat the PMS of all the women in Boston. Start with a chocolate binge, then go from there. Doesn’t chocolate always help?”

  Natalie couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Chocolate bingeing is the answer to all of a woman’s problems.”

  “Always and always.” Ella grinned back. Then her smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “Just know that I’ve been where you are, and if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.” She winked. “Off the record, of course.”

  Natalie smiled, feeling like she had an ally. Ella had come in waving a bloody knife. Who knew? Maybe the woman had talents beyond wielding an iPad and writing dissertations. “Well, as long as it’s off the record—”

  “Natalie Fleming? It’s really you?” A young woman in cut-off jeans and a torn T-shirt shoved open the front door, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  Natalie groaned. “Listen, I’m not open right now. I—”

  “My name is Maggie Valtese.” The visitor shoved her tangled brown hair out of her face. Her face was peaked and drawn, her eyes worried. “I’m here about your job posting for an assistant chef. I have my resume with me.” She began to rifle through her purse. “I’m a Sweet, so I’m really good with chocolate. You don’t even have to pay me. I just need a place to sleep and maybe some food. Please. I really need this job.”

  Natalie felt a tinge of empathy for Maggie. She knew what it felt like to be desperate. “Listen, I’m not sure when I’m going to reopen. I’ve got some things I need to address first.” Like how to get her mojo back in time for the inspection. A gleaming store wasn’t the only thing she’d need to show them to get her rating.

  Natalie began to pull out some ingredients to make another batch of virility balls. Maybe she’d failed with Dick because the chocolate had gone bad. Maybe fresh ones would do it.

  But even as she set a mixing bowl on the counter, a dark dread pulsed inside her. One that said maybe it hadn’t been the chocolate. It had been her.

  Ella patted her shoulder and started to clear off the counter to make more room for cooking. “Good girl, Nat. Taking action is the first step.”

  “My ex-boyfriend is hunting me.” Maggie inched closer to the counter, like a furtive puppy dog hoping to snatch a steak off the counter. “I didn’t know he was a deedub until he lost it one night and tried to have me for dessert.”

  “What?” A bowl slipped out of Natalie’s hand, and Ella barely caught it before it crashed to the floor. “Has he bitten you?”

  “No.” Maggie picked up a piece of chocolate and turned it over in her hand, her fingers caressing it with a reverence Natalie had seen only in her family, only in other Sweets.

  “Good.” Natalie let her breath out and took the bowl back from Ella. She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay. Maggie was not destined to the same fate as Natalie and her family. As long as she could get Maggie out of there, the girl would be safe. “You need to hide from him. We can’t defeat deedubs.”

  “I’ve been on the run for almost two years, but he keeps finding me.” Maggie shoved up her sleeve and held out her arm. Dark red claw marks raked across her arm, making Natalie’s stomach lurch. “So, then I heard about you, and how you dodged death, and so I hoped you could help.”

  “Me?” Natalie looked more carefully at Maggie. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two. She looked worn out and scared, scattered. Exactly how Natalie had felt her whole life, waiting for the deedub poison to kick in and take her out, watching each member of her family die off, one by one as the deedub poison took them. “I’m not a warrior. I can’t protect you against that—”

  “But you have to!” Maggie picked up the chocolate again and began shaving fine pieces off it, almost frantically, as if she needed the comfort of manipulating chocolate. Which, as a Sweet, she probably did. “If you put me out, I’ll be dead.”

  Crap! She knew Maggie wasn’t exaggerating. Now that she’d been scented, she would be hunted until they found her. But how could Natalie possibly keep her safe? “I want to, but—”

  “And here is our newest attraction on our tour.” The door opened and in strode a woman in a black suit jacket and a cute little skirt, wearing a large white name tag that said Marjorie Stevens, All World Tours, Inc.

  Maggie froze, Ella graced them with a curious inspection, and Natalie stared in confusion. A tour? Of her store? Holy cow. She’d become so famous that she’d made it onto a walking tour of Boston. “This is fantastic!”

  “This is great data,” Ella said, typing furiously on her iPad. “That’s so interesting to know that the city of Boston places such a high value on great sex that your store has made it onto a tour.”

  A man in plaid pants and suspenders eyed the broken front window. “What happened to that?”

  Oh, right. Granted, it was great to have made it onto the tour, but she and the store weren’t exactly in show condition. Natalie hopped up, tucking her disheveled hair behind her ear and hoping she didn’t have too much dust on her face. “Welcome to Scrumptious.”

  Marjorie beamed at her. “Why thank you, my dear. It’s lovely to be here. Would you like to do a presentation? Maybe tell us a little bit about how you achieved such success?”

  Such success? Warmth spilled through Natalie and she smiled. “I’m so delighted that my store is on your tour.” She beamed at the half dozen potential customers with ball caps and sweater vests spreading out in her lobby, posing next to her display cabinet and snapping pictures. “I’ll be thrilled to welcome you back next week when we’re officially open. Right now we’re doing construction and prep work for a very exciting, very elite opportunity to be considered for a Michelin-O Gold Star of Love.” She picked up some of her gold-embossed napkins. “You are all welcome to take one of these with you as a souvenir as you leave—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about us,” Marjorie said, waving her hands in dismissal. “You don’t need to entertain us. We don’t mind invading your privacy.” She pointed at Natalie. “And this is Natalie Fleming, the only Sweet in history to survive a deedub bite.”

  The only deedub survivor? Cameras began to click again, and Natalie became aware of the scent of chocolate thickening in the air. Of a sense of restlessness building among her guests. The skin on the back of her neck began to crawl. Holy crap. This wasn’t a regular tour. This was something else. She knew with sudden certainty that she needed to get them out of her building. Immediately. “Leave my store. Now.” She moved in front of Maggie. “Get out of here, Maggie,” she whispered. “The back door.”

  Maggie dropped the chocolate and began to edge toward the rear of the store.

  “Everyone take your pictures,” Marjorie chimed. “She won’t be here for long, so this is a very exciting time—”

  Maggie tripped on a barrel and a bronze candlestick clattered to the ground, its echo loud in the store. The entire tourist group jumped, and a man in red-and-white plaid shorts, a white polo shirt, and knee-high white socks snarled.

  “Oh, yes,” Ella said. “Men who snarl are generally not the boyfriend type. Maggie, let’s go.” She slipped behind the counter to help Maggie untangle herself from the upturned barrel and candlestick.

  While the queen of hedonism helped the Sweet to her feet, incisors began to stretch past checkered short man’s lips. He had fangs? And they were coming out in a chocolate shop? Natalie’s grip tightened desperately on the knife. “Tell me he’s
not a deedub.” Please, God, tell me he’s not a deedub.

  Marjorie smiled. “Of course he is.” She gave a cheerful, all-inclusive swing of her arm. “We all are.”

  “You all are?” Natalie realized everyone in the group was getting a little pointy-toothed. Oh, dear Lord almighty—

  “I must have her!” Checkered shorts guy ripped his camera aside and leapt at her, teeth bared.

  “No, no, no! Not permitted!” Tour guide Marjorie unleashed a deafening catcall and tackled the tourist. She sideswiped him into one of the bar stools, but one of the other tourists leapt over her and charged Natalie.

  Ella started shouting, and then Maggie screamed. Knee sock guy hit Natalie hard in the chest, his claws sank into her shoulders, and a little old granny grabbed her ankle.

  Natalie blocked his first bite with the knife, and then someone jerked her down from behind, and two tourists landed on top of her. She caught sight of Maggie disappearing under a load of plaid and Ella slamming her iPad into one of their heads, uselessly—

  “Enough!” Marjorie bellowed in outrage. She sprayed purple dust across the store, and all the deedubs vanished.

  Natalie stared in shock as the room went silent. Behind her, Ella and Maggie struggled to sit up, covered in purple dust. “You guys okay? Did you get bitten?”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, no. Did you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Dear God, that had been so close. A whole room full of deedubs? And Maggie, poor Maggie! The girl would be traumatized for life.

  Marjorie curtsied. “My deepest apologizes, Ms. Fleming. I will do my best to avert such behavior next time.”

  “Next time?” Natalie shook her head. “No, no, no next time. My store is off limits—”

  “Not to us,” Marjorie said with a smile. “We’re all in this together, my dear.”

  “What? No—”

  But in another burst of purple smoke, the tour guide was gone, taking with her Natalie’s only chance to stop her from coming again. Would she back in a day? A week? Five minutes?

  “And you still expect me to believe you’ve got it all under control?” Standing in the doorway, staring down at her was the most beautiful, broad-shouldered, deadly artist she knew.

  “Nigel!” She blurted out his name, unable to keep the relief out her voice. Let the tour come back now!

  “Oh, wow,” Maggie whispered. “Who is he?”

  Ella shushed the girl and bundled her back behind the counter, but Natalie didn’t bother to look at them.

  She was too entranced by Nigel.

  The warrior had changed.

  Not his clothing.

  Him.

  He looked completely badass and mean, far more cranky than she’d ever seen him. Even the pink rose tattoo on his cheek looked darker and angrier than a flower had a right to be. He didn’t look anything like the serene warrior she was used to seeing. He was on edge, he was violent, he was restless, and he was vibrating with energy in a way that sent pulses of excitement through her. Yes. The word whispered through her soul, unbidden.

  His brows raised, as if he’d heard her whisper. His eyes darkened, and he held out his hand.

  Oh, God. She shouldn’t do it. She shouldn’t touch him. Simply being around him stirred longings inside her that she wanted to stay dead. If she touched him… too much. But she wanted to. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She needed to. Caught by the depth of his gaze, Natalie slowly raised her hand. For a moment, she hesitated, willing him to pull away. To take the choice away from her.

  He didn’t retract his hand. He simply waited. And slowly, her heart thudding in her chest, she set her hand in his. The shock was instant and electric as he closed his hand around hers. His skin was warm, his grip strong, his expression so intense she could feel it reverberating in her soul.

  “Up we go.” He tightened his grip and pulled her to her feet.

  She wound up right in front of him, chest to chest, barely any space between them. He carried the faint scent of vanilla, and her body warmed. Energy seemed to crackle between them, and she realized he was still holding her hand.

  His gaze flicked to her palms, as if reading her mind, but instead of letting go, his grip tightened. She realized suddenly that he wasn’t going to let her go, and she liked it.

  The fact that she was so thoroughly delighted that Nigel wasn’t going to let her go was quite possibly even scarier than the tour of deedubs.

  Physical attraction was not something she could afford.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  And certainly, most definitely, not with Nigel.

  Chapter 5

  Touching Natalie was nothing like Nigel had anticipated.

  And he’d thought about it a lot.

  Because he was a guy, and guys did shit like that.

  He’d been around Natalie a fair amount in the last few weeks. Not with her. Around her. In her presence. Enough to notice. Not crossing her path. Despite the fact that he was ruthlessly compelled by Natalie’s luxurious brown hair and the turbulent depths of her radiant green eyes, and even though he hadn’t liked the compression of her aura after she’d nearly died a few weeks ago, he had exercised his warrior discipline and hadn’t reached out to her.

  But he’d watched her carefully. He was well aware of the intense conflicts raging within her. You know, because he was an artist, and artists were sensitive to the intricate complexities of emotionally rich souls, and Natalie was all that, and then some. He’d sketched her repeatedly on the sly (she had no clue), but he’d never been able to capture her tormented spirit in his art to his satisfaction.

  When his pen had drifted across the page bringing her to life on his paper, he’d envisioned what her skin would feel like. It wouldn’t be cool and rough, like the apprentices in the Den. Natalie’s skin would be warm and soft. It would be gentle and silky. She would feel the way a woman was supposed to feel.

  But now, when he was finally touching her, when all the fantasies in his head became the fiery reality, as he folded his fingers around hers, he realized he’d been wrong about what it would be like to touch her.

  He’d failed utterly to anticipate the raw electric shock that ripped through him, igniting every cell of his body, juicing the testosterone until he could think of nothing but going to the mattresses, with her beneath him.

  For a man who was pretty damn sold on the benefits of celibacy, his reaction was a little surprising. Maybe it was her fingers. They were smaller than he’d expected. Dainty. Delicate. If he wasn’t careful, he could snap them in half by accident. His fingers enfolded protectively around her hand.

  He rubbed his thumb over her palm, stroking the silken skin as she stared at him, her face riveted with shock that suggested she was as startled by his touch as he was by hers. Her skin wasn’t cold, yeah, he’d got that right. But warm didn’t describe it. It was hot, pulsing with energy, with fire, with adrenaline, with passion. She was alive with so much energy he half-expected it to burst out of her skin… except he could tell it wouldn’t. She had it ratchetted down with enough force to blindside a tsunami in a hurricane.

  She had her spirit in a merciless grip, but there was no peace in Natalie Fleming. He knew exactly what that was like.

  He tugged, and she moved, allowing him to pull her closer. Her T-shirt brushed against his arm like the whisper of an angel’s wings, and he was hit with a sudden, soul-deep passion to draw her. Not to keep himself under control, but for the sheer, beautiful experience of bringing her to life on his pages. He would take her out to his balcony at sunset, when the sky was vibrant and alive. She’d be wearing a red silk dress that clung to the curves of her body. He’d slide the strap over her shoulder, revealing skin so soft, so womanly, so precious.

  A tourist on the street caught his attention, and he immediately went into vigilance mode. As he surveyed the store for threats to her, he noticed that she didn’t try to move away. Because she wanted him to keep her safe? Or because she was feeli
ng the same fire billowing through her?

  Much as he wanted it to be the latter, they would both be so much better off if it was the former. So, for the moment, he’d just pretend that’s what it was. He was her protector. She was his client. He would do his job.

  He checked the surrounding area carefully, but all he saw was a lanky gal in wire-rimmed glasses watching them and typing furiously on an iPad, and a slightly ajar cabinet door that hid a third woman who’d crawled in there during the battle. “You okay?” he asked Natalie.

  “Yes, yes.” Her brilliant green eyes were wide with vulnerability, but she finally pulled her hand free to brush the purple dust off her arms. “Everything’s fine.”

  He narrowed his eyes, not buying her bravado. She’d been trembling when he’d taken her hand, and she’d been scared. Plus, he’d been there long enough to know she’d been in major trouble, and he didn’t like the idea of what would have happened if that one woman hadn’t gotten control of the situation. “Who were they?”

  “Apparently, I’ve been put on a deedub tour. I’m all the rage since I managed to avoid dying.” She set her hand on her hip, indignation chipping away at her fear. “Do you realize that I have a TRO against any deedubs coming into my store? Did you see any respect for the law? Did you? Because I certainly didn’t.”

  He grinned as she began to work herself up. He knew she was trying to chase away the fear, and he appreciated that. Anger was empowering. Fear wasn’t. “Yeah, weird,” he agreed. “Seems like deedubs would normally respect Otherworld laws designed to control them.”

  “Arrogant, lawbreaking pinheads. They should all be sent to a treatment center for chocolate addicts.” She surveyed the store that was in somewhat disarray. “Just because they bit me once doesn’t mean they get free rein over my chocolate, you know?”